


Balance Node

by astramaxima (shotgunsinlace)



Series: Normal Rules Did Not Apply [3]
Category: Sonic the Hedgehog (2020)
Genre: Allusions to Kinks, Bottom Agent Stone (Sonic the Hedgehog 2020), Communication, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Massage, No ACTUAL Sex and Everyone is Surprise, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Romance, Still Needs an Explicit Rating Though, Teasing, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:20:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26040292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotgunsinlace/pseuds/astramaxima
Summary: After a steady stream of successful dates, Robotnik decides to do something "nice" for Stone once he's finally ready to make them official. Even if he "accidentally" blueballs him in the process.
Relationships: Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik/Agent Stone
Series: Normal Rules Did Not Apply [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768222
Comments: 9
Kudos: 62





	Balance Node

Stone has given up trying to name whatever it is he and Robotnik have going on between them. It is definitely a relationship despite the absence of labels as per the doctor’s explicit request, but rather than ignore the implications of their actions, Robotnik has embraced it with a newfound giddiness that has Stone shaking his head with plenty of endearment. The line between work and play is often a muddy one regardless of Stone’s valiant attempts to keep them separate, but there isn’t much he can do when the concept of work is stitched into Robotnik’s very DNA.

The workaround? Stone’s lunch break is never scheduled. He’s taken to keeping small meals stashed somewhere at headquarters or in the lab to eat during less hectic time slots, because rather than fuck on the government’s dime, Stone is a good agent that leaves pleasure for whenever he’s not on the clock. The problem with being Robotnik’s… whatever he is… is that he can never quite gauge when the man is ready for a go. Can’t schedule something as volatile as his libido—or anything else, for that matter.

Robotnik doesn’t comment on it as it no longer happens as often as Stone would like.

The week after their first date had been a field day. By the time the following Friday came around, there wasn’t a surface in Robotnik’s lab they had not fucked on, going at it like a couple of hormonal rabbits on a warm Spring day. Were Stone any other person, it would have been easy to write off the subtle crumpling of his suit as it being a product of average daily wear, but as it stands, he has a reputation.

_Agent Stone never has a hair out of place, let alone a crooked tie._

_Is that a scratch on the back of his neck? I didn’t take him for a cat guy._

The rumor mill stops for no one, and Stone doesn’t give a flying fuck about it. He feels the prickle of jealous stares aimed his way, of haughty generals and commanders eyeing him with a simmering cocktail of disgust and affront. As a cadet, the leering gazes had chilled him to the core. As a former commanding officer and current head of an elite governmental security detail, he can’t be bothered. If it’s Robotnik they want, they’ll have to go through him. And if it’s Stone they want, they’ll need nothing short of an army to take him.

Regardless, for reasons unrelated, they have both scaled back how often they bump uglies while on the job. That does not mean Stone has stopped stealing kisses whenever Robotnik left himself open while in the privacy of the lab, or that Robotnik has ceased his insatiable need to grope Stone whenever he gets the chance.

He doesn’t know what to call this relationship of theirs, but it is vibrant. It is warmth and airiness within the living walls of the lab and shines vividly along the seam of Robotnik’s lips. There is still an overabundance of hesitance, of long silences spent hunched over a faulty drone in the middle of repair, and far-off looks that Stone tethers to the present with careful touches to the shoulder.

This is new and fragile, and Stone delights in the moments when Robotnik demonstrates his own awareness of the connection. 

Like now, for example, as Stone stands just over the doctor’s shoulder, watching him work with laser precision on the smallest piece of technology Stone has ever seen. It takes a good hour of hovering before Robotnik puts down his tools and leans back in his chair with a victorious _harrumph_ , removing his goggles and letting his arms flop down to his lap. He glances sideways at Stone, and all he has to do is tilt his head to the side as if to say _‘I’m ready now’_ for Stone to bring up a hand and caress the back of Robotnik’s neck.

He’s gone within a blink, swiveling his chair back to the main console with a lively spin. “ETA?”

“Six hours. You’re two ahead of schedule.”

“Excellent! Just as planned,” Robotnik says, typing something on the surface keyboard before pressing a familiar sequence on his command gloves. The lab door closes, and the secondary security system activates with a barely detectable hum. “I’ve been thinking…”

Stone tries not to look surprised, especially when Robotnik spins back towards him before getting up from the chair, a hand thoughtfully smoothing over his mustache. “Doctor?”

He holds up a finger. “About _balance_. A very useful node on your skill tree, Stone.”

“Thank you.”

“Yet you hardly use it. Why?”

Stone blinks at him, uncertain whether the observation is meant to be a professional or personal jab and unsure of the type of answer Robotnik is looking for. “I wasn’t aware my work was lacking.”

“You know how I hate when you play dumb with me.” Stone steps aside when Robotnik begins to pace the lab, an arm at his back and the other hand encasing his chin as he takes in the ovoid machines nestled in their metal cradles. “Jacket: off. Now.”

Stone does as he’s told without hesitation, peeling off his suit jacket and draping it over his forearm. 

He’s tired, having not gotten enough sleep last night due to a personal side-project, and he had hoped to actually spend his lunch break decompressing over a smoothie—but as it seems, no such luck is in store. Stone is very much aware he can always say no, and Robotnik would have to deal with it whether he wants to or not, but he figures a short romp would be easier on his nerves instead of a sexually frustrated doctor for the rest of the day. At the very least, exhausting himself now means he’ll be out like a light the moment his head hits the pillow.

Robotnik surprises him, however, when he gestures for Stone to sit.

It takes a moment of pointed glances and exasperated waving for Stone to get moving, sitting in Robotnik’s obscenely comfortable chair before getting the jacket taken away somewhere out of sight. He is swiveled to face the console, holoscreens displayed but blank.

“We’re staying on the clock,” Robotnik says matter-of-factly, taking Stone’s head and forcing him to face forward when he turns to look over his shoulder. “No buts.”

Unsure of where to put his hands, Stone lets them rest on his thighs as he listens to Robotnik move around behind him. He sees the command gloves dropped onto the workbench and before asking if he should be taking anything else off, Robotnik’s hands pat his shoulders.

Fingers dig into his trapezius muscles and Stone stiffens at the surge of discomfort that borders on pain, shuffling in the chair before Robotnik squeezes with the entirety of his hand rather than just vicious fingertips. The doctor tries again, this time with a slightly lighter press, and while still uncomfortable, Stone eases back and lets him do his thing.

The list of actions exchanged between them has been mostly one-sided from the very beginning, but Stone doesn’t mind it. He was assigned to be Robotnik’s assistant—agent, secretary, spy, bodyguard, assassin, all interchangeable really—so he had no qualm or query as to what his duty was. Fast forward to their current _arrangement_ and Stone is keenly aware of Robotnik’s personal needs, physical and otherwise, personally taking on the task of seeing them fulfilled.

No ulterior motives and not at all due to a sense of obligation. Stone delivers because he wants to, because not only does he like Robotnik, he _likes_ likes him. Maybe Stone gets off on being of service, on caring for someone he adores. Maybe he isn’t being entirely selfless in carrying the brunt of the work of this not-quite-official-relationship.

Stone’s breath hitches when Robotnik’s thumb sinks into a particularly stiff spot at the base of his neck, his toes curling pleasantly inside of his shoes.

He hasn’t been on the receiving end of a massage in over a decade and he’s perplexed by the unexpected turn of events but rolls with it. Robotnik is surprisingly good as he makes brushing motions over his shoulders before switching to a slow half-arch along his shoulder blades, digging deep enough to hurt but not enough to put Stone off.

Warm hands slide up the back and front of his neck and Stone swallows with considerable difficulty, the pressure against his windpipe sending sensual licks of arousal curling in his lap. His head is tipped slightly before a swift jerk makes something audibly pop, making Stone’s eyes snap open.

Robotnik looks down at him with a cocky smirk and shrugs, swatting Stone’s head before placing his hands back on his shoulders. “What, never been to a hammam?” he says.

“If that’s what you’re going for, I feel cheated,” Stone quips, rolling his head around to feel the loosened knots in his muscles.

“I predicted getting you into the hot tub would be impossible while on the job, so I improvised. Consider yourself lucky, Stone, that I was trained in the art of deep-tissue massage while smoking out a particularly sentient worm in Istanbul during my youth.”

Stone squints at the blank screens in front of him. “You have a hot tub?”

“Convenient for personal projects. Radiation levels should be safe for most humans. Some humans. Humans wearing hazmat suits.”

“We should make a date out of it.”

“I only own one but I’m sure we could snatch another from under General Whatshisface’s nose.”

“I mean an actual hammam,” Stone says around a smile, resting the back of his head against Robotnik’s stomach and looking up at him. “We could both benefit from it considering I’m not very good at massages.”

Robotnik stares back, one of his hands moving to caress the underside of Stone’s jaw and making him shiver with a novel sense of pleasure. He shuts his eyes, allowing Robotnik to do as he pleases.

“This isn’t about me.”

The words sound foreign coming from Robotnik despite being muttered through gritted teeth, and Stone is left grueling over them as his muscles are worked to the point where he could easily fall asleep were it not for the burning sensation radiating from them.

It clicks then, with violent force, what the whole exchange is about.

Stone straightens up and swivels the chair to face Robotnik but Robotnik swivels it right back around, holding it in place with a leg, knee digging into Stone’s back. “Doctor—”

“This type of thing usually works best when the massage _e_ shuts his trap and accepts that maybe his doctor is in a good enough mood to do something nice for him for a change. Suck it up and let me work.”

Stone wishes he could. Relaxing sounds like the ideal thing to do for once, but he didn’t expect to get so hot under the collar at the prospect of Robotnik doing something nice for him. It’s less about the massage and more about the intention behind it, about _being cared for_ , that suddenly has Stone’s dick hard.

 _Well, that’s new._ He has his kinks like every other person, granted some more obscure than others, and he figures he might be able to trace this back to his rarely indulged proclivity to _receive_ , so to speak. Now is not really the time, but he wonders if Robotnik would ever be willing to take the reins from him—bend _Stone_ over, for a turn, fuck him so good he forgets the intrinsic need to be in full control of himself at every given moment.

Those wicked hands slide down the front of his shirt, still working, massaging small circles over his chest and Stone is gripping the top of his own thighs when thumbs ghost over his erect nipples. He sits perfectly still despite the overwhelming need to squirm, to direct Robotnik’s hands to where he wants them the most—but that also stirs a fresh wave of arousal: denying himself touch.

“You’re really good,” Stone says, throat dry as he watches Robotnik’s hands go lower and lower, never breaking stride, long fingers wrinkling his shirt until an errant pinkie taps his belt buckle. “ _Doctor_.” He’s ashamed at how needy the word sounds, his legs spreading as his hips move in miniscule little circles in search of friction.

It feels like forever ago when Robotnik first came onto him, when he sunk down onto Stone’s lap on this very chair and rode him with a desperate flavor. Now it’s Stone’s turn to come apart, and there’s something obscenely arousing about the fact that Robotnik can do so with both fully dressed, using nothing but his hands.

“Honestly, Stone, I expected you to at least do _this_ right.”

There it is. He had almost forgotten how heady it was when Robotnik pushed him around, how deliciously horny he would get when Robotnik verbally railed at him once cornered. It’s almost nostalgic given how far they have come in what feels like such a short amount of time.

Stone blinks open his eyes to be greeted by the sight of himself on the holoscreen before them, a scene of debauched disgrace that makes both his face hot and groin hotter. It’s lewd, how sprawled he is with Robotnik leaning over his shoulder, grinning at whatever device is actively recording. He toys with the end of Stone’s tie, using it to wave at their image before smacking a loud kiss to Stone’s cheek.

“This type of behavior would be _unacceptable_ at a public bath,” Robotnik says, watching Stone’s eyes on the screen. “The only audience suitable to witness this is me.” His index finger traces the bulge straining Stone’s pants, featherlight in contrast to his touch not ten seconds ago. “If you want to finish, then do so in your pants. I’m not helping.”

“I thought you were done being mean to me,” Stone says, aiming for playful but sounding breathless instead, hips following the touch until it vanishes.

“Dating doesn’t get you a free pass.”

Stone bites his bottom lip, turning his head to look at Robotnik with that familiar warmth settling in his chest. “Are we? Dating, I mean.”

Robotnik cocks an incredulous eyebrow. “Did you get concussed without me knowing?”

“No, no, I mean,” Stone straightens up in the chair, getting in Robotnik’s face and momentarily forgetting having been moments away from ruining his boxers. “Are we making it official?”

Stone has used countless words to describe Robotnik: menacing, endearing, challenging, to name a few, but he never thought he’d add _cute_ to that list. Stone must assume there is something fucked up about the way he processes things because here he is, witnessing a man in his mid-fifties look confused and the first thing his brain offers is _cute_ as a valid descriptor. 

Maybe he’s just _that_ whipped.

“Insinuating we weren’t.”

Stone carefully picks his words, reaching over to tap his fingers against Robotnik’s scruffy cheek. “Nowadays the term ‘dating’ carries a lot of different connotations,” he explains, “from multiple casual encounters with the same person to steadier relationships.”

Robotnik deadpans. “How precious, you thinking I’m an absolute idiot.”

“That’s not what I mean—”

“We discussed the potentiality of being in a romantic relationship.”

“That was barely a discussion.”

“I assumed we were what the youths call ‘an item’.”

“Literally nobody says that anymore,” Stone says with a laugh, guiding Robotnik forward to push their foreheads together. “We did talk about communicating with each other and at no point was any agreement about our relationship status reached.” He holds Robotnik in place before he has a chance to pull away. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to come off as pushy, but,” Stone pauses, looking off to the side before gathering his wits, “I would very much like for us to be ‘an item’.”

It’s one of those things that really goes without saying, especially for two people who often converse without the need for words. But for Robotnik’s sake, Stone is willing to push his boundaries and verbally express himself in order to ease Robotnik’s ability to engage with the concepts of emotion and relationships. It feels awkward and clunky rolling off his tongue, but if it helps them build towards steadier ground, then Stone will gladly do so.

“I don’t like sharing,” is Robotnik’s defensive reply.

“Don’t worry. I’m pretty old school.”

It’s Robotnik who slots them in for a brief kiss, one that is strictly lips on grounds of likely wanting to rile Stone up all the more. “Juvenile labels and all.”

“Still set on _colleagues_?”

Robotnik shoves him away before straightening up and going for his gloves, slipping them on and giving no indication of finishing what he started as he brushes off his coat.

Stone doesn’t move, blissed out despite being denied an orgasm—or any other type of stimulation. He ought to be embarrassed at the fact that all it took was a little massage to get him this hot and bothered.

“‘Partners’ might be suitable,” Robotnik says, his back to him as he fiddles with the holoscreens. He minimizes the freeze frame shot of Stone sprawled like some advertisement for MEN.com, not-so-sneakily saving it to a personal folder. Stone considers asking if it’s okay to take and keep a few lewds of Robotnik for when their schedules become too unbearable to spare the energy, but refrains. Maybe next time when they actually get down to it.

With a sigh, Stone finally gathers enough energy to push himself back to his feet, running a hand over his rumpled shirt and tie in hopes of making what just transpired less obvious but to no avail. “Sounds good to me since you’re so averse to the term ‘boyfriend’.”

“ _Juvenile._ ” But Robotnik offers a secretive smile that melts every last bit of him. He takes Stone’s jacket and holds it out for him to slip into, both to his surprise and delight, before letting his arms come around his agent to button it. “One more thing, before you prance off to that knock-off Home Depot for whatever General Annoyance wants.”

Robotnik gingerly wraps a hand around Stone’s throat, using the hold to pull him flush against his body.

Stone swallows hard, fingers twitching at his sides as Robotnik holds him in place with little effort. It’s intimate, erotic, and there is still a pointed distraction throbbing in his pants.

“You’re not as subtle as you think concerning your _particular_ interests,” Robotnik says, tightening his hand just enough to get an unbidden moan out of Stone.

“Thought we were taking it slow.” Stone rocks back against him, making Robotnik huff and his hold falter. “Can’t just lay it all out there on the first date.”

“Wouldn’t want to spook Cinderella by revealing Prince Charming’s dirty little secret involving iron cuffs.”

“You really think I’m charming?”

“ _Stone_.”

“Leather’s better.” Stone turns in Robotnik’s hold, crowding him against the workbench and kissing a sharp cheekbone. “We’ll talk about it, okay? But it’s not important right now.” He rests the entirety of his weight against Robotnik, his head resting on his shoulder to recoup. Stone is still gearing for a go, aware that he will need to get it taken care of before doing anything else on base.

Robotnik strokes his back, stilted and uncertain, but Stone can’t help easing into the embrace.

“Thank you,” he says against the soft fabric of his doctor’s coat. _For taking care of me,_ he wants to add but refrains, not wanting to sound overly needy, or put unnecessary pressure on the man still learning how to navigate the intricacies of romance.

Robotnik nods his head. “Don’t make me look up your search history.”

“I told you to ask whatever it is you wanted to know.”

“ _Hello, Agent Stone! I was just wondering if you could enlighten me in the nuances of men who often top but may potentially harness an interest in bottoming but only under very specific circumstances that may or may not include his partner’s complete lack of knowledge_ —you know how I hate not knowing things— _on the matter, along with their need to feel—_ ” he gestures vaguely, “ _tended to._ ”

Stone pulls away to look at him, offering a nod. “That would’ve worked just fine.” At Robotnik’s eye roll, Stone smiles. “It really can wait until we’re both ready.”

Half of Robotnik’s mustache pops up in a mild grimace. “No human being can possibly be this earnest given every subject ever.”

“Disarming is just another one of those traits I excel at,” Stone says, stealing one more kiss before untangling himself and pulling away. “The higher-ups think it’s uncanny.”

Robotnik doesn’t move from the workbench, resting his hands on either side of him and drumming his fingers against the metal table, the buttons on his gloves making a satisfying rhythmic sound. “Uncanny. I’ve been called worse.”

“Add that to the list of things we have in common.” Stone winks at him, fruitlessly tugging his jacket in hopes it will cover his groin. “Can I get you anything before I go to lunch?”

“No but bring me something from wherever you decide to go. You know what I like.” Stone shuffles momentarily, debating the best course of action when Robotnik’s coat smacks into him. “And take that to the dry cleaners whenever you get the chance.”

“Of course, Doctor. I’ll see you in an hour.”

Robotnik doesn’t bid him goodbye, turning back to his console as Stone walks out of the lab with the obviously clean coat draped over his forearm, conveniently held waist height. Clean for now, anyway. May not be by the time his lunch break is over. 

_Choices and consequences, Doctor,_ he thinks, briefly musing over the ideas of balance and dating and reciprocity, but—ultimately—too horny to think of anything other than—god help them both—his partner.

**Author's Note:**

> I still have no excuse.


End file.
